Of Monopolies and Men
by Bedraggled Atelier 2
Summary: AU On an inclement Monday, an owl delivered a letter from the illustrious Black & Potter Investments to a dilapidated, one bedroom cottage in Yorkshire for a Remus J. Lupin. We were impressed, the letter read, by your proposal and would like to invite you to 12 Grimmauld Place in London for a demonstration. SLASH Wolfstar SBRL
1. Prologue

_Author's Note: I wrote this in May 2019, and I don't have a place for it in my story yet. People liked it (three people mentioned it); I liked it, so I'm putting it here. _

Gringotts was a towering, lopsided marble building constructed to look like each of its three floors were competing in a tug of war with the ground floor tilting right and the second floor tilting left. Inside hung grand chandeliers and below them were marble floors in pristine condition that stretched from the large doorways to the end of the corridor and beyond. Rows of dark wooden counters started where the corridor ended, each manned by an aging goblin.

The goblins that ran the Gringotts Bank were of miniature size with large pointy ears and pale skin. Their kind were prideful and wily, not as honorable as the Centaurs but nowhere near the volatile tempers of the merfolk. For whatever reason, these stout, shrewd creatures were seen as trustworthy guards for most, if not all, of the gold in the Wizarding World.

From his place in line, Remus could see the brows of the goblin wrinkled in deep concentration, and he was suddenly aware of their similarities to house elves, the only enslaved magical beings in the realm. What alliance did the goblins have with wizards that house elves did not? And how could one be so inferior to the other?

When Remus approached the dark mahogany counters, a goblin fixed his beady, dark eyes on Remus and said coldly. "Well, well, a werewolf."

Remus felt his heart drop. Was it so obvious?

"And how can I help the werewolf?" the goblin asked, folding his hands together as he gazed down at the young squib.

"I'd like to make a withdrawal," Remus said. The brunette wondered briefly if anyone behind him had heard. With the goblin's stare looming above his head, Remus reached into his pocket for his key and placed it on the counter, waiting as the goblin held it by the candle for inspection.

"Seems to be about right," said the goblin. Then, the goblin stopped and turned back to Remus. "Is this yours?"

"No, it's my parents'," Remus said, a little more unsure now, wondering if he would have to return another day with his mother or father. "I'm running an errand."

The goblin paused and seemed to consider Remus's words before he continued. "Alright, I'll take you there myself, but if what you say is untrue, you'll soon find yourself in Azkaban."

The goblin stepped down from his high chair and unlocked the door to the teller desk.

His height was astonishingly short to Remus, who was much taller than goblins when he last visited. Now a gangly youth, Remus was several heads taller than the shorter creature who ushered him to the train and unlocked his vault.

The Lupin family had a modest fortune, and they sought to give their children the same middle class opportunities that they had. What they could not foresee was the cost of moving every few years for Remus's condition, nor the money lost caring for a child unwelcome in the Wizarding World.

The gold in the vault was the remainder of his family's nest egg.

He grabbed a handful and pocketed it.


	2. Chapter 1

On an inclement Monday, an owl delivered a letter from the illustrious Black & Potter Investments to a dilapidated, one bedroom cottage in Yorkshire for a Remus J. Lupin. For hours, the owl perched patiently outside the window with the letter in its talon, waiting to be let in, but the owner of the cottage, Remus, was still asleep.

Remus was a young man in his early 20s with pallid skin and dark flaxen hair. While asleep, Remus looked visibly unwell but less so compared to when he was awake. The fatigue that marred his young face was partly due to years of poverty after leaving school, but the rest was a consequence of his monthly lycanthropy, the source of his many problems.

The room that he occupied had two average sized windows overlooking the green hills of Yorkshire and was sparsely furnished with only an old trunk and a bed covered with a terry, gold and scarlet woolen blanket from his years at Hogwarts. Everything else rested on the ground - screw tops beside bottles, scattered papers coated in ink, and piles of weathered books. And on all four walls of the room were stone walls, which looked much sturdier than the thatched roof hovering above him.

On a rainy day such as today, the thatched roof frequently leaked, wetting the floors. But even as a pool of water made its way dangerously close to Remus's possessions, the young wizard remained asleep, too exhausted from the recent full moon to be disturbed by weather or the visitor sitting on his windowsill.

The owl by the window, impatient to be let in and relieved of its burden, shrieked suddenly and then again, watching as the young Remus stirred the bed. But Remus once again remained asleep. In his sleep, the wizard had burrowed his face into that gold and scarlet blanket until only his straw colored hair peaked out from under the covers. That blanket, much like the rest of his possessions, was from his years at Hogwarts. How he missed those years - back when he believed that dreams came to fruition with hard work.

At Hogwarts, Remus was an excellent student with a good work ethnic. His excellence in magic should have led to a career after Hogwarts but, as you can see from his tattered clothes and the neglected condition of his new home, it did not. Employers were keen to avoid his kind - half breeds, as some referred to him, part man and part beast.

At midday, the young wizard finally awoke. First, his eyes languidly opened, sleep still stuck on his lashes, as he surveyed his surroundings. His first thought was, It was raining. Thousands of droplets poured onto the roof like scattered marbles falling rhythmically from above.

I'll need to fix that roof, he thought next.

Now awake, he stared vacantly at the light outside the window, taking in the afternoon sunshine, and combed his hand through his wavy locks, sighing deeply. While asleep, he had a wonderful dream that he had achieved his life's ambition - working in the Ministry of Magic or anywhere in the Wizarding World, really, and living in a well furnished flat in Diagon Alley. That dream, while just a dream, seemed more real than the nightmare he was living - unemployed, even in the Muggle World, where wizards could live grander lives for much less (if a wizard should wish to live apart from his peers and all the glorious magic of the Wizarding World). It was a very bitter reality for once such a hopeful student.

A reality that he had begun to accept would hang over his career for the rest of his life. He was a Gryffindor, through and through, never one to accept defeat easily, but after many failed attempts at establishing a life for himself in the Wizarding World (all of which were thwarted by his condition), Remus had given up on his hope for a normal, wizarding life, forced by financial need to leave his familiar world for an easier life in the Muggle World.

Even then, life was seldom easy.

In some ways, it was harder to conceal his monthly affliction in the Muggle World.

He shut his eyes and sighed again, resigned. If he was lucky, perhaps he could return to that dream.

But the carrier owl outside the window shrieked. Whatever it had could not wait until after his nap.

His eyes fluttered open again, and he turned towards the leftmost window until his eyes landed on the letter, particularly the vibrant colors of the B&P seal. He could hardly believe it. It was here! Almost immediately, Remus scrambled out of bed, struggling with the covers that wrapped around his waist, and bounded for the window. He stumbled as he crossed the room and with three fluid motions, unlatched the locked and tugged opened the window.

The owl gave a small but shrill coo, the letter still resting between its talon.

It was here! The letter was here!

"I'll take that," Remus said to the owl, tugging at the letter in its talon. The owl relinquished the letter easily and shivered, dusting off the droplets of rain that had soaked its feathers.

He held the letter in his hand with the emblem facing up, nerves trembling with excitement. The response to his request for funding from Black & Potter Investments was finally here!

Black & Potter Investments was an angel investment company based in the heart of London and was run by two of the Wizarding World's most infamous friends - Sirius Black III and James Potter, both wizards from recognizable families and both Hogwarts students from Remus's year. With B&P's investment and business acumen, his product could be released to the general Wizarding community before the end of the year. Imagine that - his product showcased in every major shopping district in the Wizarding World.

After the initial elation, he wondered if the letter held bad news. What if the letter was to inform Remus of their disinterest in his product?

Remus felt his elation plummet into his stomach, replaced by the all too familiar apprehension for his uncertain future. He could continue as he had for another few months, but when would it stop? Next year? That was the plan last year, but here he was, still meandering from town to town like some vagrant, saving whatever he could on budget accommodations, sometimes living in the woods like his fellow werewolves.

He had to know. Even if it was bad news. Besides, he was practically immune to bad news by then, hearing it almost nonstop in his adulthood.

He breathed in shakily and broke the B&P seal, tearing part of the parchment in his haste. Then, he unfolded the letter and scanned the contents.

We were impressed , the letter read, by your proposal and would like to invite you to 12 Grimmauld Place in London for a demonstration. If your solution does as you have stated - optimize wand wood collection by managing bowtruckle aggression, we will give you the funding you have requested.

Remus sighed in relief.

Thank God, he had done it.

He had persuaded the angel investors that his solution was useful to the Wizarding community and profitable, of course. Now, he would only have to demonstrate the efficacy of said solution. That part would be easy.

He removed a jar of ink and a parchment from the trunk beside his bed, dipped the quill into the ink, and began writing, dating the letter - 3 March 1748 . " Dear Messrs. Black and Potter " he scrawled down on the parchment and paused, thinking of his next words carefully, then continued.

I thank you for your response to my proposal.

For months, I have been engrossed in this project, believing that it would prove useful to the Wizarding World. It is truly an honor that such accomplished wizards, such as yourselves, have recognized its value. It is only with your funding that this project can advance towards sales.

As you are aware, wand prices have soared in the last decade, a byproduct of the rising bowtruckle population. My solution reduces bowtruckle aggression towards wizarding encroachment on their natural habitat, wand wood trees, without eliminating the diminutive, leafy creatures at all . I expect many wand manufacturers to show great interest in such a product. And as every wizard and witch owns a wand, it should prove to be a lucrative venture to support.

He paused again.

What date had they expected him to be at the demonstration?

He read through the letter from B&P again, searching for the suggested date. Finally, his eyes landed on March 6 - a few days before his birthday. Wonderful. He could celebrate afterwards with a chocolate cake at a nearby cafe in London.

I look forward to meeting you on March 6 , he wrote.

After he had signed the letter, folded it, and stuffed it into an enveloped, he broke into a smile broke, and elation rose in his chest.

The gloom of poverty was finally over!

His affliction may have dimmed his career prospects, but it did not diminish his resourcefulness. Soon, after his demonstration, he would begin to profit from his hard work rather than languish in the Muggle countryside, impoverished and secluded from the Wizarding World.


	3. Chapter 2

It only occurred to Remus that impressing Black and Potter would be harder now that he was deprived of hours of sleep from his late journey into London last night. His trip took days, each made more tiresome by the return of the winter chill, but nevertheless, he arrived in London under the cover of darkness, looking cheerful and optimistic in his Wizarding robes, a peculiar garment for the city locals, all of whom were muggles. One could only guess which interested more - his cheerful disposition, his peculiar clothes (sure very old fashioned to the muggles), or his vagrant appearance from weeks of traveling through the country.

Now, he stood between 11 and 13 Grimmauld Place with the letter in his hand, searching the parchment for the address. His eyes wandered down the page until it landed on the place of the demonstration. In the letter, B&P had clearly written: 12 Grimmauld Place, London.

Were there two Grimmauld Place in London then, one in the Borough of Islington and another elsewhere? One a Muggle dwelling and the other, a hidden office in the heart of London?

Remus shut his eyes and rubbed his temple. What a mess, he thought. Already in London, so close to the hour of his demonstration, and now he was lost. But it was salvageable. He was still early, and the Leaky Cauldron was a short ride from here. He could return to the pub and ask to use their fireplace to speak with the founders of Black & Potter. Surely, they would understand if he explained to them that he had found Grimmauld Place but that No. 12 was missing entirely from the block.

Before Remus could return to King's Cross Station, the door to one of the houses down the street opened and by the door was number 12 shining clearly in gold. A tall, handsome man stood by the entrance to 12 Grimmauld Place.

"Are you Remus Lupin?" asked the man.

Remus nodded, absentmindedly, stunned by the man's good looks. Black curls, a chiseled jaw, and broad shoulders. This had to be Sirius Black.

"You look like a Muggle," Sirius Black commented. "I almost thought you were one."

He and Potter were gifted students back at Hogwarts and were also notoriously known for their misdeeds, which landed them in detention frequently. Everywhere James Potter and Sirius Black went, there were giggling girls fawning over the attractive Quidditch stars of the school. Sirius Black had the better looks of the two, which was why Remus knew it was Sirius at the door - that and James always wore spectacles. During his Hogwarts years, the eldest Black was a handsome youth with a lot of charm, but as a young man in his early 20s, he had a very intoxicating masculine appeal.

"You must be Mister Black," Remus said, happy to see an old classmate.

"That's me, one half of Black & Potter Investments," Sirius said as he lifted his wrist to read the time. "You're still early. Mind waiting inside for another half hour?"

"Of course, that won't be a problem," Remus said. He opened his briefcase and had meant to drop the letter into it, but the letter, being lightweight, caught wind and somersaulted downwards and then into the street. "Didn't expect that to happen."

"Think you should leave it," Sirius said. "It's not too busy now, but there's always a carriage driving past, and you can't outrun those."

"I'll be there soon," Remus called to Sirius Black as he made his way into the road. Remus had made his way into the middle of the road when he saw a carriage driving by, just like Mister Black had said. The driver shouted at Remus as the horses and carriage sped past.

"Sorry, sorry," Remus said to the driver.

The carriage had crushed the letter, leaving a dark imprint on the parchment.

Remus bent down and peeled the crumbled, bedraggled letter from the dirt roads. With a slight grimace, he pocketed it and headed back to the walkway.

Sirius Black smiled sympathetically at Remus as the fair haired wizard reached the walkway. "Too bad," said the investor. "Was it anything you needed?"

"No, just something I'd like to have."

"Come on then."

Remus hurried up the stairs and into the residence after Mister Black. So I was right, Remus thought. 12 Grimmauld Place had only been hidden in the Muggle neighborhood.

As soon as he entered and once the door had shut behind him, Remus saw the two toed troll foot in the corner. The foot had been hollowed out and was now being used as an umbrella stand. Beside the troll foot, which Remus tried to avoid looking at, was an intricately carved bench under a gold framed mirror, among various expensive decorative items. All normal furnishings compared to the foot.

Sirius, noticing Remus's discomfort around the umbrella stand, spoke up. "A family heirloom. Do you like it?"

Was that a joke? It had to be. Just look at it.

"I prefer the regular kind," Remus answered mildly, averting his eyes away from the foot. Trolls were notoriously dumb, easily agitated and quick to violence - a threat to any wizard, partly the reason why they made such good security guards. And like werewolves, trolls preyed on wizards. The hostility towards trolls was completely earned, but to keep an appendage of the magical creatures in your home like it was a trophy? The better question was "Why?" Why a troll foot?

Sirius grinned. "Me too. I've never liked it, but my parents' loved it." Remus wondered how anyone could love such a grotesque thing. Sirius paused, then said thoughtfully, "I should toss it now that they're gone."

"Why haven't you?" Remus asked dismissively, adjusting the It was no concern of his what Sirius chose to do in his own house.

"I've gotten so used to it that I don't notice it anymore."

"I supposed that could happen. Is it real?" asked Remus, cautiously.

"It is."

That was all he needed to know. Purebloods were a different class of wizards entirely, obsessed with blood purity and wizarding hegemony. What Remus found repulsive, purebloods could have very well found it fascinating.

"Say no more." Then, as if to change subjects, Remus spoke up again, "About the demonstration..."

Would it be offensive if he began without Mister Potter? While Remus was questioning whether he should bring up the topic now or wait until later, Sirius Black was looking at him expectantly. "Yes?" Black said.

"It might be better to wait for Mister Potter."

Black nodded. "I'll lead you to the dining room then. That's where we hold all our meetings. Hope you don't mind the place. It's not an office, but in some ways, it's more suitable for our needs than an office. We provide lodgings for some of our colleagues, you see."

Mister Black continued further into the house, down the corridor with the blue and gold patterned floors. Remus followed the raven haired wizard through the narrow corridor, grimacing as he spotted more abnormal decor in the house: rows of stuffed house elves planted over intricately designed wallpaper. Up close, the house elves looked almost human.

Bile welled up at the back of his throat. He cleared his throat - much louder than he had intended.

Mister Black glanced back at him. "You alright?"

"Yes," Remus said, forcing a smile.

He should have expected more furnishings like this - the Blacks were an old wizarding family, and old families had regressive traditions. Still, part of him remained disgusted with the decor. Trolls were arguably not a magical creature. Though sentient, they were aggressive and had inferior intelligence to most in the magical community, but house elves were loyal servants. They were meant for domestic duties, not wall decoration.

"How'd you guess I was Black and not Potter?" said Mister Black, stopping at a pair of double doors. He slid the doors opened and walked into a dining room.

"I was in the same year as you, so I recognized your face," Remus said, walking in behind Mister Black. The dining room was grand, much like the rest of the house, but empty and looked unlived in. "Is Mister Potter here as well?"

"He's at Gringotts, but he should be here at 11, sharp. Do you need anything? Water, tea, coffee?"

"Tea would be nice. Do you mind if I sit?" Remus had to ask. His feet were becoming sore from walking in his new shoes.

"Sure," Sirius said.

Sirius leaned out into the hall and called, "Kreacher." Then, he turned back to Remus, who had just sat down, and said, "I don't remember you, but to be fair, I don't remember most of our class. Kreacher!"

An aging house elf with a hunched back and threadbare rags over its thin frame materialized. Its gaunt face broke into a twisted smile underneath its long, crooked nose. "Master called Kreacher?"

"A cup of tea for the guest, please."

"Kreacher lives only to serve Master," Kreacher said, very dutifully. Too dutifully, like he was an actor exaggerating his role. "Ungrateful renegade that he is."

That was unexpected. Most house elves were faithful servants. Remus had never met such a rebellious house elf before. In some ways, Kreacher must have taken after his young master, who was known for his rebellion against the pureblood community.

"But before you go, Kreacher," Sirius said, a bit pointedly, ignoring Kreacher's last comments. He turned to Remus again. "How do you like your tea?"

"With sugar," Remus said, looking tentatively between Master and house elf.

"A cup with sugar and one without," said Sirius, nodding to Kreacher. "Remember to stir the sugar."

"Most people wouldn't remember me," Remus explained when Kreacher apparated out of the room. "I was a rather quiet student."

"How'd you hear of me and James then?" Sirius asked curiously as he took a seat beside Remus.

"I think it was at the Quidditch Games first. You were a beater, I believe."

"I was," Sirius said, leaning back into his chair. "and James was a chaser. Do you play Quidditch?"

"I seldom play."

"Well, I didn't need to ask to figure out that one. You don't look like the type."

Kreacher returned, aggressively stirring a cup of tea with a silver spoon, clinking it against the glass. The loud noise irritated Mister Black, who ground out, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't make so much noise, Kreacher."

"Kreacher only wished to follow Master's instructions," said the house elf, walking over to Remus with a cup of tea. Only one.

Remus accepted the cup with a smile. "Thank you, Kreacher."

Kreacher's lip curled in disgust, almost like a gut reaction to Remus, and left. He wondered if Kreacher knew of his lycanthropy. House elves had their own form of magic, after all - a kind that was almost incomprehensible to wizards and their wand lore.

"Sorry about him," Sirius said once Kreacher was gone.

"Your house elf must not like me much," Remus commented.

"He doesn't like anyone, including me," Mister Black muttered. "I suspect the only people he ever liked were my parents, especially my late mother."

"You've mentioned your parents twice now. Are both of them gone?"

"Yes, both dead, but if you want to chat with my mother, you can find her portrait down the hall. When they past, I inherited the house and Kreacher. Poor thing has to deal with the grief of losing my parents and my constant presence."

"Have you tried to free him?" Maybe he would like you more if you did, Remus thought.

"I have," Sirius said with sincerity. "But he's more attached to the place than I am. But enough about me. Let's talk about why you're here."

Sirius strode over to a stack of parchment on the far end of the long dining table while Remus pulled out several vials from his bag. Sirius crossed the room again and sat down beside Remus with what looked to be Remus's proposal.

"James and I were impressed by your proposal," Sirius said earnestly. "Like you mentioned, every witch and wizard owns a wand, and every 11 year old in the Wizarding World is going to need one to start school. If you can lower the price of wand wood, you'd be fixing a very big problem. How'd you come up with the solution?"

Sirius fixed his gaze on Remus, waiting for a response. Remus was suddenly perturbed by the other wizard's mesmerizing grey irises.

"I first learned about the high cost of wands when I was working in Diagon Alley. A few of the parents were speaking about the rise in wand prices, and when I heard of the price the wands were sold for, I very much agreed with them. When I bought my first wand and when you bought yours, prices were much lower."

"Drastically lower," Sirius agreed. "How much do they cost now?"

"10 galleons."

"Poor families," Sirius said. "That's much too high."

"And too high to be inflation," Remus added.

"Hopefully, that won't be an issue after your product is on the market," Sirius said. "Can you explain more about bowtruckles and their natural habitat - the wand wood trees?"

"About a decade ago, Ollivander and other wand makers have been selling overpriced wands, and it's not to make a profit for themselves. Their supplies of wand wood have been growing scarcer for over 10 years because the trees' natural protectors, bowtruckles, have become a hindrance to wood collectors," Remus explained.

He paused, then continued. "Bowtruckle population has grown considerably for years. The infestation has led to tribal competition for territory among the creatures, as there's not enough wand wood trees for every bowtruckle, let alone wizards. Any approaching creature, wizard or not, have been brutally attacked, and these attacks have deterred many wand manufacturers from collecting wand wood trees entirely. If they do, it becomes a full on war with the tiny creatures."

"The usually shy bowtruckle waging war for territory." Mister Black chuckled. "I imagine it'll look more like wizards fighting hordes of branches."

"I wouldn't underestimate them," Remus warned. "They're far more dangerous than branches."

"Yes, well, so are trolls. Yet there's an industry for troll foot umbella stands," Sirius pointed out. Remus grimaced. "Your solution, whatever it is, is preventing outright war then. One solution with so many applications: lowering wand prices, preventing war, and now conservation. In your proposal, you've stated that your solution would conserve the life of bowtruckles, but with so little wand wood trees to go around, half of the population would die of starvation. Or would you label that as a natural death?"

"I don't consider it a natural death at all, but it's either their lives or forgoing wizarding magic entirely."

"It's always either them or us, isn't it?" Sirius mused. "You could rehome bowtruckles in the Wizarding World. They have a natural temperament to be wizarding companions. More intelligent than cats and toads too. What do you think of that idea?"

"I think they're prefer to live in the wild, but with their intelligence, they should enjoy life in the Wizarding World, so long as they have insects to eat."

"You know a lot about bowtruckles," Sirius observed. "Did you study magical creatures at school?"

"I did for a number of years, but it wasn't my focused. I read more into bowtruckles after I learned of the problem."

"Any from Newt Scamanders?"

"Almost entirely from Newt Scamander and his journals," Remus admitted. "Very few wizards and witches have been as empathetic to magical creatures as Scamander."

"So you learned about the problem while working in Diagon Alley, read up on wand wood trees, and studied bowtruckles from Newt Scamander's journals?"

Remus nodded.

"How'd you find the solution?" Sirius asked, curiously.

"I went into the Dark Forest looking for bowtruckles, as per Scamander's instructions. It wasn't hard, considering their sheer number."

"Were they happy to see you?" Sirius joked.

Remus smiled. "No, not at all. They gave me some rather painful lashes."

"Any permanent scarring?"

"No, none at all. Nothing a bandaid didn't fix."

"If it were serious, I guess you wouldn't be here today. Have you tried offering fairy eggs?"

"No, but I did try woodlice. They were uninterested."

"So you offered them woodlice, but they were disinterested in your gift and attacked you. What happened next?"

"I left," Remus deadpanned.

Sirius laughed. "I'm sorry. Go on."

"Even after reading the reports on bowtruckle attacks," Remus argued. "I didn't expect them to attack me so viciously. I camped out in the Forest that night-"

"In the Forbidden Forest?" Sirius interrupted, as if to clarify. "Overnight?"

"Yes. Not the best place to be, but I couldn't leave."

"You know, there's a reason it's forbidden," Sirius said. "You could have left and returned another day, rather than risk your life. Plenty of predators out there looking for easy prey, and a disarmed, unconscious wizard is easy prey."

"Your warning would have been more useful back then. I didn't sleep well that night. Kept hearing noises around me."

"Could have been anything too. Acromantula, trolls, giants, werewolves."

"Those were my thoughts that night."

"Those would be anyone's thoughts," Sirius said. "Will you be taking another trip to the Forbidden Forest?"

"Yes, I'm afraid I have to. For the project."

"I'd love to join," Sirius said. "James would like it too, but he might stay behind. He's attached now, and his girl isn't too keen on him risking his life for the thrill."

"Is that Lily Evans?" Remus asked. Were James Potter and Lily Evans still together? "The muggleborn with red hair?"

"That's the one."

"He was always so enamored with her."

"He was. Still is."

"Glad to see that some things don't change. But you've changed a lot since school, Mister Black."

"Call me Sirius. Can I call you Remus?"

Remus nodded.

"Well, Remus, if you think I've changed, you should see James. He's like a model citizen now. Gone are the years of pilfering from the Hogwarts kitchens." Sirius checked the time on his watch. "Ten til eleven. Think I'll check up on James."

Remus nodded.

Sirius rose from his seat and disappeared into the hall, leaving Remus to wait. While Sirius was away, Kreacher entered the room with a dust broom and pan.

"Hello," Remus greeted the house elf. "Kreacher, is it?"

Kreacher curled his lip in disgust. "It is," he said, proceeding to dust the cabinets. Remus left the house elf alone to do the cleanings. Clearly, Kreacher was disinterested in conversation.

Minutes later, Remus heard Sirius's voice coming from the hall. "He sounds reckless, but he looks like the most mild person I've met." When Sirius returned, the pureblood was accompanied by James Potter.

"Hello," Mister Potter said as he entered the dining hall, extending a hand for a shake. "You must be Remus Lupin."

As a Hogwarts student, James Potter was a bespectacled youth with unruly hair. Now a young man, he had tamed his messy hair and had that polished look of a businessman, much like his father.

Remus took his hand. "I am. Nice to meet you, Mister Potter."

"Call me James. Sirius and I were looking forward to your demonstration all week. If your solution works, we're talking about major gains here. I mean, what wizard and witch wouldn't want cheaper wands?"

"Yes. Same quality, lower prices."

"How long have you been working on this project?" James said as he pulled out a seat and motioned for Remus to sit down. Sirius had already taken a seat and was flipping through Remus's proposal again.

"For more than a year now."

"How'd you start?" James asked. "I'd like to hear the story from you. Sirius says you learned about overpriced wands while working in Diagon Alley and somehow ended up in the Forbidden Forest, alone, looking for those tiny, leafy creatures-What are they called again?"

"Bowtruckles," Remus supplied.

"Yes, bowtruckles. And you were attacked by them. Is that right?"

"Almost right," Remus said. "After learning about the bowtruckle infestation on wand wood trees and reading up on the creatures, I did take a trip into the Forbidden Forest, alone, like Sirius mentioned, looking for bowtruckles, and was attacked. But you make me sound like a daredevil," Remus said.

"You aren't?" Sirius asked. "Few wizards camp overnight, alone, in the Forbidden Forest."

"Fair point."

"You sound adventurous Remus," James said, impressed. "Not every wizard has the guts to enter the Forbidden Forest alone. Were you a Gryffindor at Hogwarts?"

"I was," Remus said. "Same year as you two."

"You were?" said James, surprised. "Can't say I remember you. Do you remember Remus, Sirius?"

Sirius shook his head. "I don't remember him either." Then apologetically to Remus. "Sorry."

"Not many do," Remus confessed.

"Well," Sirius interrupted. "I think we should start the demonstration. If the solution works, then we can all brave the Forbidden Forest together, searching for bowtruckles."

"I agree with Sirius," James said. "We should start now. Do you mind drinking truth serum before we start?"

Fear flashed across his face, but he replaced it with a smile quickly. "No, I don't." Not quickly enough, though. Sirius and James saw it and exchanged skeptical glances.

"Kreacher," James called.

Veritaserum. With one sip, he would be forced to answer every question asked truthfully. What if he were to blunt out his condition? Sirius was eyeing him strangely now, possibly even doubting everything he said before.

"Your house elf isn't responding," James said to Sirius.

"Kreacher," Sirius called loudly. The house elf appeared in the dining room. "I'd like you to prepare a glass of truth serum for Remus. Quickly."

"Kreacher will fetch the truth serum for Master's guest," said Kreacher before he left the room, muttering, "Kreacher wonders what a dirty muggle wants with Master. The muggle will ruin the house, he will."

Sirius sighed in frustration.

"Like I said," Sirius began. "James and I were looking forward to your demonstration all week. Hopefully, you haven't embellished parts of your proposal?"

"No, it's all accurate."

"Alright," Sirius said casually. "I believe you."

"Have you brought anything with you, Remus?" James said.

"Yes," Remus said. "I have the actual solution with me."

Remus opened his briefcase and withdrew a vial of serum. Like the truth serum, it would only take one drop. One drop to sedate a bowtruckle for hours, just in time to harvest the wand wood. Several drops every week, and they would go from mild creatures with territorial issues to carefree bowtruckles, happily parted from their home, the wood wand tree.

Kreacher returned with a glass of water. Remus hoped that it was mostly water. "Thank you," Remus said, taking the glass. He took a sip and left the glass on the table.

"Let's start then," James said. "Name?"

"Remus J. Lupin."

"The same Remus J. Lupin that wrote the proposal?"

"Yes," Remus answered. He wanted to keep his answers short, lest they give him an ambiguous question, and he was forced to disclose his secret.

"And was everything you wrote in that proposal true?" James continued, perfunctory, almost like he had done this several times before.

"It was."

"Is it still true?" Sirius interrupted.

"Yes, I still have a solution to manage bowtruckle infestation," Remus said. "I left a vial on the table."

"Without harming them?" Sirius asked.

"Yes, without harming them," Remus parroted.

"That's it, then," James said. "Those are all the questions. You can begin your demonstration but keep it brief. I have an appointment right after."

Remus obliged, pulling out a jar encasing a bowtruckle and placing it near the vial. His palms began to sweat, and he was suddenly nervous again, more so than when he was speaking with Sirius.

"Don't be nervous," Sirius said, laughingly. If only it were that easy. "Just say what you did earlier, except in more detail."

"I'm not nervous."

"You look pale," Sirius pointed out. "Are you afraid your solution won't work?"

"No, I know it works."

James looked between Remus and Sirius curiously but said nothing, only: "I don't meant to interrupt you two, but I have another appointment at half past eleven."


	4. Chapter 3

At the end of the demonstration, both Sirius Black and James Potter offered Remus their full support: both the money for materials and travels and full accommodation at 12 Grimmauld Place until the completion of the project, but Remus remained hesitant when accepting their offer. The funding and support were fine, but how would he hide his lycanthropy from them if they were housemates?

James and Sirius noticed that hesitation, like they noticed his fear earlier when they requested he drink a truth serum.

"It's the amount you have requested," James said, almost like he was willingly to trust Remus. "unless there were some changes?"

Even at first meet, Remus could tell how trusting James was. How nice it must have been to live in a world as black and white as Mister Potter's. Meanwhile, his business partner and best friend seemed to waver closer to distrust. Even now, Sirius was watching Remus, searching the werewolf's expression for any clues that would disclose his inner turmoil.

"No," Remus consoled James, ignoring Sirius's growing distrust. "That amount is fine. There's nothing wrong with the offer. I was just lost in my thoughts," Remus explained.

"Then, we'll see you in a few days?" James asked.

"Yes, I'll be here with my things," Remus confirmed. He knew that they saw his hesitation as more than it was, as a sign that he was not fully prepared to settle with their support, and he did not want them to think he would be shopping around for more investors.

If there was anything he could not afford to lose, it was their financial support. Not right now, not after those months of unemployment.

Once it was settled that Remus would join the two in the Grimmauld manor, the three agreed to meet three days from now at the same place to discuss arrangements for travels into the Forbidden Forest. Sirius added how safer the trip would be with three wizards rather than one. To which, Remus agreed.

"We'll wait until you've moved in to sign the contracts," James said. "If you need help with your things, maybe Sirius could help you."

Sirius's head swerved to James's direction.

"He's free this week, aren't you, Sirius?" James said to Sirius, smirking.

Sirius glowered at his best friend and then turned his eyes towards Remus.

"I am," Sirius said slowly, looking almost embarrassed. "Where do you live, Remus?"

"In Yorkshire," Remus said, glancing between the two. "very far from here," Remus added, hoping to relieve Sirius of the trip.

"Yorkshire," Sirius murmured thoughtfully. "If you take the Floo, Yorkshire won't take longer than a few minutes. How will you be getting back?" Sirius asked.

"By horse."

"On horseback?" James said, astonished. "Horseback from London to Yorkshire will take ages. Is that how you came here?"

"It was," Remus said, smiling. "The scenery was nice, so I have nothing to complain about."

"It's only a quick trip by Floo. You can us ours," Sirius offered. "if you'd like."

"Thanks very much for your generosity," Remus said with a smile, "but I won't be taking the Floo. I live in a secluded Muggle town, and I'm afraid no Floo was ever installed in my residence."

"Why would you live there then?" James asked, puzzled.

For the cheap housing isolated from muggles and wizards who could discover his lycanthropy.

"For the scenery and the solitude."

"I think you need less 'scenery' in your life," James said. "And less solitude, like Sirius here."

"I'm very happy with my solitude, thanks," Sirius grounded out.

"Sirius is right," Remus spoke up, wary between tension between the two, even if it was friendly banter between childhood friends. "Some of us prefer it to company."

After that conversation, James withdrew into 12 Grimmauld Place, stating that he had an urgent meeting. Sirius asked where Remus was staying. If the tawny haired wizard was staying in London for the night or heading off for Yorkshire later that day. Remus replied that he would be staying at the Leaky Cauldron for another night.

"I won't postpone your trip any longer then," Sirius said. "When should we expect you?"

"Two weeks from now."

"Are you sure you don't need help? I can grab my broom and join you. Like James said, I've nothing else to do. I can help you carry a few of your things."

"I own very little things to carry. I'll be fine. Thank you, Sirius."

They said their goodbyes and departed in opposite directions - Remus to the trains and the B&P duo into 12 Grimmauld Place. James must have just finished the meeting because as he walked away, Remus heard Sirius say, "James, you were painfully obvious."

Remus walked down Grimmauld Place, a smile breaking across his face, until he reached the stables nearby. While placing the saddle back onto his horse, Remus's hands trembled out of joy. He had done it. And what a relief that was. Finally, things were looking up. He hopped back onto his horse and rode over to the Leaky Cauldron. As he entered the tavern, he wondered briefly if he should have invited James and Sirius to join him in his celebration.

James was busy that day, but for some odd reason, Sirius was free. Not just that day either. James seemed to imply that Sirius was free for half a month.

In Diagon Alley, Remus picked up a cake at a shop and boarded an evening train to Yorkshire to collect his things, an easy feat considering that he had very few things.

Later that month, he took the same route to 12 Grimmauld Place with his things and knocked on the door.

Sirius opened the door soon after. Upon seeing Remus, Sirius's face broke into a smile, and his eyes lit up with high spirits. "Remus," Sirius grinned, stepping aside for Remus to enter. "Good to see you."

"Hello, Sirius," Remus greeted, following Sirius into the manor. "I take it you had a good morning?"

"I did, actually," said Sirius, pleasantly. "I was just having breakfast. Have you eaten yet?"

"I did. An apple on the way here."

"Are you still hungry?" Sirius asked. "I can make another plate of eggs and bacon."

Remus accepted.

"Your room is upstairs on the 3rd floor," Sirius said. "Can I help you with your things?"

"I don't think I'll need your help for this."

As they made their ascent, Remus noticed that the manor seemed empty. "Where's James?"

"Oh, James doesn't live here. He lives with Lily."

"Are any of your colleagues staying here?"

"Besides you, no."

That was not a good sign, Remus thought. Living in 12 Grimmauld Place with the previous owners fascination with severed body parts of magical creatures required some resilience; living there alone with only the new owner, his hostile relationship with the dwellings' house elf, and his own secrets, which Mister Potter made apparent weeks prior, would test Remus's endurance. If things were as bad as they were starting to sound, Remus's stay here would be more like a marathon, the completion of the project as the end of a grueling race.

"For now," Sirius added. "They come and go."

Remus's impression of Sirius was that the pureblood was impulsive, sharp, and fun loving. And not always willing to trust someone who held secrets.

Once they reached the 3rd floor, Sirius directed him to the room near the stairs. "This is your room," Sirius said, opening the door and revealing a quaint room with grey and green wallpapers, a wooden desk, and a twin size bed. "Bathroom's right next door. I'm on the floor above, if you need anything."

"Thank you, Sirius," Remus said, gratefully. "If anything comes up, I'll let you know."

The walls of the room were Slytherin green with intricate grey ivies sprouting around pale serpents. Near the door was dark leather armchair. Opposite that was a twin size bed by the window and a wooden, corner desk. It was a fine room, much like the rest of the house, but it made Remus feel like he was in the dungeons of the Slytherins at school.

Remus set his trunk down at the corner and opened the trunk to retrieve his papers. Those he put on the desk. He would need those later, especially if either Mister Black or Potter wanted to start the project immediately. Everything else he kept in the trunk. His clothes were all marred by splashes of ink, and the only clothes suitable to be worn were his muggle suits, none of which he wore proudly.

His mother was a muggle, so he was not entirely unfamiliar with the Muggle World, but he had never identified as anything other than a wizard, even with the heavy influence of his lycanthropy over his life.

As he was unpacking, Remus heard a shrill woman's voice from downstairs. "BLOOD TRAITORS IN MY FATHER'S HOUSE," he heard her scream. He rushed to the door, peering down the hall just as Sirius bounded down the stairs.

"Is everything alright?" Remus called over the screams of the woman who was now screaming about filth, contamination, and humiliation upon the Black family.

"Just my mother's portrait," Sirius said loudly back. "Nothing to worry about."

He returned to his room. Pureblood households were possibly less organized than he had once thought.

Soon, Sirius's voice joined his mother's in a screaming match. Then, silence reigned.

He went back to his things, pulling out his quills and ink and placing them next to the papers. Remus had just finished unpacking when he heard a knock on the door. Sirius's head popped in soon after.

"How are you settling in?"

"I just finished," Remus said. "Is something wrong?"

"No, none at all. I'd thought we could start planning today over dinner. Unless you'd like to rest for today?"

"Today is fine," Remus said, cordially.

"Happy Birthday, by the way." At Remus's confused look, Sirius added. "I saw your date of birth while going through your paperwork."

So that was it, and here Remus thought Sirius had extracted that information from his mind, using Legilimency.

Remus left his room and smiled at Sirius, who was waiting for him by the stairs.

"How do you like your room?" Sirius asked as they headed downstairs.

"It's lovely. You have such a grand home."

"Glad to hear it. Not everyone enjoys living in the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, no matter how grand it is."

"I think most wizards would disagree. Everything in your home is splendid."

"Must have been the occupants that made it so miserable then."

"The ones who liked troll feet as trophies?" Remus said mildly.

"Yes, my parents," Sirius paused. "I hoped you didn't mind my mother. She likes to make her presence known to new residents."

"The screaming portrait? Not at all, but hopefully, she won't make her presence known every day?"

"I can't promise you that. Think of her as an alarm clock, a doorbell, or an intruder alarm. She has her purposes."

When they reached the ground floor, Remus noticed that the troll umbrella was gone.

"I put it in storage," Sirius explained.

They left 12 Grimmauld Place and walked down the street to a local tavern that also functioned as a restaurant and inn, much like the Leaky Cauldron. A muggle tavern. Remus voiced his concerns about using a muggle establishment to plan their venture into the Forbidden and suggested going to the Leaky Cauldron instead, thinking that they would be jeopardizing the secrecy of the Wizarding World by discussing wizarding matters, but Sirius was strongly against it. The investor explained that the Leaky Cauldron was teeming with wizards, which Remus thought was the point, and wizards who overheard their project, Sirius explained, were more likely to run off with their idea than muggles. The muggles would think they were talking about some fairy tale, Sirius reasoned.

Remus supposed Sirius was right.

Sirius appeared more jovially in the tavern than at their first meeting, and from the way the staff brightened around him, it looked like Sirius was a regular. One of the servers walked up to Sirius and cooed, her ill fitting bodice exposing pale breasts, "Hello, Master Black. Same table?"

Remus wondered if any of these women were prostitutes.

"Not today," Sirius said. "I'd like that one dish - the popular one with The Club - two mugs of coffee, and a corner table. Private. We'll be discussing some business matters, and I don't want us to be interrupted."

"Of course." The woman gave Remus a sidelong glance, traveling from his head to his toes, It gave Remus the chills, and he quickened his pace.

"There's a dish on the menu that I think you'll enjoy."

"Is that what you usually have?" Remus asked, walking past a table of drunken tradesmen.

"I've only had it once, and it's not my favorite, but I was sure you might enjoy it."

Remus took a seat, glancing around the inn at the occupants - drunken tradesmen and laborers, members of the lower class.

"About the supplies," Sirius began. "What do you expect we'll need?"

"Not much. Some rations for our trip and a tent. The rest, we can obtain in the Forest. Food, water."

"And wizarding robes," Sirius added. When Remus raised his eyebrows, Sirius explained, "You dress like a muggle. Is that a quirk of yours or...?"

"I spilled ink onto my wizarding robes," Remus explained.

"So that's it. James figured you were impoverished before you came to us."

"I'd rather not talk about my finances."

"It's not an issue with me whether you were poor or rich," Sirius said. "James and I were struggling with our investments before you came along. We're doing fine financially, but we haven't had any recent successes."

"I hope I can help then."

"You will," Sirius paused, looking concerned and almost struggling whether he should voice his next thoughts. Then, he said, "Remus, about your proposal. I've looked into your financial requirements, and I don't understand why you need the sum that you requested. A tent, transportation to the Forest, all meals for a week, equipment, clothes - nothing costs as much as you have requested."

Remus had hoped that Sirius would overlook that amount he set aside for his wolfsbane.

"James is perfectly fine with the amount. He says our combined incomes and inheritances are enough to supply you with the requested amount, but I'm not so sure," Sirius confided. "You seem like a private individual, and I don't mean to pry, but I need you to be open with me before I can fully trust you."

That was only fair.

"What will you do with the rest?" Sirius asked. "If it's about accommodations, we've already offered you lodgings and all meals."

Sirius paused, waiting for Remus to answer his question. What should Remus tell him? What would cost as much as wolfsbane?

"There you go again," Sirius sighed. "The answer shouldn't require that much thinking."

Remus said nothing.

"James and I ask you to drink a truth serum, and you panic. None of your answers suggest anything suspicious, no matter how thoroughly we phrase the questions, and your solution works as it should. We offer you the amount you requested and full accommodations, and you hesitate. Care to share what you find so disturbing about working with us?"

"I have my reasons," Remus said quietly, "and I won't be disclosing those private matters to you."

Their conversation was interrupted by the server from before and her helpers, carrying trays of food. "It's going to be a cold night, sirs. Do you wish to sit by the fire?"

Sirius looked at Remus. "Remus?"

"No, we're fine here."

Once she disappeared behind the curtains and returned to serving the other customers, Sirius sighed, "Forget that I asked. I want us to have good relationship, and I don't want to jeopardize that partnership by interrogating you. Forgive me?"

"It's not a problem," Remus said, relaxing. "I don't fault you for being...cautious. I can assure you that it has nothing to do with you, James, nor the project. But if the finances are a problem, we can reduce the funding."

"The funding isn't a problem," Sirius replied, picking up his pewter cup. "Cheers."

"What is it?" Remus asked, sniffing the contents.

"Gin," Sirius said, taking a gulp.

It was best for Remus to avoid alcohol while staying with Sirius.

Sirius was already too interested in Remus for the werewolf's liking. If Remus had his way, Sirius would be showing him hardly any attention at all, the way an investor should. Thank goodness he had kept his small cottage in Yorkshire. If things fell apart here, Remus could always return home.


	5. Chapter 4

One drink led to another, which Sirius only down after asking Remus, "Do you mind?" A sort of courtesy from investor that was rather superficial, more of an acknowledgement towards his guest than any real consideration. Remus supposed Sirius would consume more liquor whether he minded or not. Many hours later, Sirius's mood lightened just as the festivities of that evening grew lively. Towards the other end of the pub, particularly near the fire, men in white wigs were engaged in passionate debates and whenever a certain point was made, laughter spread through the tavern.

To the wizards, the muggles were speaking gibberish - fervently debating issues about some "Order of the Toast" or a "Kit-Kat Club," none of which made much sense to the werewolf who thought it was a reflection of the muggle upper class's obsession with good food and felines. Sirius must have been even more confused by it than Remus. The Blacks were at the very center of the Wizarding World, even if their home was right in the heart of the Muggle capitol.

From that direction came a server with a tray of empty pewter cups.

"Anything else, boys?" She asked them.

"I've had enough," came Sirius's slow reply, the liquor impeding his speech.

"Nothing for me," Remus replied after. He assumed she would be needing money right about now, but she saw his expression and said that they could put it on the tab.

"Master Black is a regular here," she explained. "He entertains all his guests this way."

"I'm not drunk. I can pay," Sirius argued, rummaging through his pockets for galleons. He grabbed a handful and deposited them onto the table. The small pile of gold coins with its wizarding head and dragon tail glinted under the dim lights of the taverns.

"That's too much," Remus whispered.

"Wizards and dragons?" asked the server. "Did you get the wrong coins again?"

The two ended the evening early, leaving just as the tavern was packed full with members from the upper echelons of the muggle world.

"What did you imagine they were speaking about?"

"Toast," Remus said, smiling broadly, as they walked back to 12 Grimmauld Place. "But I imagine those names were pseudonyms for political organizations."

"I've never heard a group of men passionate about politics call themselves 'Order of the Toast.' If you're wrong, then there must be bread shortage in London."

Their discussion continued until they drew further away from the brightly lit parts of the city. Sirius commented on the darkness first. "After dark, the entire muggle world turns into Knockturn Alley," Sirius explained. "Arsons, violent muggings, grave robbings, and the familiar boggart running amuck." Luckily for the wizards, they returned to the townhouse before dark, passing the night watchman in charge of patrolling the more wealthier streets. But by the time they arrived at 12 Grimmauld, the light from the night watch's lamp had turned the corner and disappeared onto another street, leaving them in pitch darkness, as none of the lamps in the townhouse were lit.

"Kreacher must have forgotten," Remus said, pulling out his wand.

"If only that were true," Sirius muttered as they made their way up the stairs. Remus fumbling his steps and catching himself on the railings. "This is just one of his tricks - make the house as gloomy as his despair."

As soon as he made it to the top of the stairs, Remus uttered, "Lumos," and the space around them brightened. Sirius withdrew his key, and moments later, he disappeared into the London townhouse.

"Careful of my mother's portrait," Sirius whispered. "Don't think our muggle neighbors want to hear her voice right now."

Remus nodded and entered behind Black, shutting the door quietly.

"Lumos," Sirius whispered, illuminating the space around him with a bright orb. "Can't wait for bed."

"Before you go," Remus said. "can I ask you a favor?"

Sirius paused. "Depends on the favor."

"I've been looking for a book called... It's not a very popular book, so I haven't been able to find it in most bookstores. Any chance that you might have access to some private libraries?"

"You mean, the ones from old wizarding families?"

"Not them exactly but yes. Old wizarding families. Purebloods."

"I could ask James. His parents have an extensive library."

The next day, James visited to see how Remus was settling in. When asked where Sirius was, Remus responded that the pureblood was upstairs, sleeping off a night of drinking. James didn't seemed surprised at all.

"Your book should arrive soon," James said to Remus as he grabbed a muffin from the table. "I haven't had the time to search for it."

Remus watched as James sniffed the muffin. "Did Kreacher make this?" James asked cautiously.

Remus nodded.

James grimaced. "Well, I might as well risk it."

"I'm surprised Sirius already asked you about the book."

"I was too. It was late," James deadpanned, biting into the muffin. "You two had a drink last night?"

"We did."

"It looks like Sirius did," James observed, wandering over to the cabinets to pull out a goblet. He returned to the table and motioned towards the pitcher. "Can you pass me the pitcher?"

Remus did.

"This milk?" James asked. Remus nodded. "And it tastes like milk to you?"

"I haven't had any problems with breakfast yet, but it's only between half an hour."

James shrugged, tilting the contents of the pitcher into his goblet and chugging it down with one gulp. "Look, Remus, you should be careful around Sirius," James said. "He has his eyes on you."

"I'm the only one here," Remus pointed out, smiling. "We're the only people we can look at."

"I know that." James said. "But Sirius-he's-what's that supposed to mean?"

"He was always a bit mischievous in school, so were you, James."

"Yes, but I've left that stage."

"Have you?" Remus said, eyes twinkling.

"Yes, but now I have Lily. Sirius has no one."

"Are you warning me that your best friend wants to replace you as a partner in crime with me?"

"Not exactly that, but he does seem to like you. I'd like you to be careful around him. I wouldn't want the relationship between you two to undermine the project."

"Is there a reason you feel the need to tell me this?"

"You seem like a nice fellow. You live in Yorkshire and wear sweaters everywhere. That or muggle clothes. And you look like you've been broke for years. Can't deny it now. We're all aware of your financial problems. Sirius is a powerful man. If you keep your distance, he can be a powerful ally."

And if he didn't and their relationship soured, what then?

"James, you shouldn't worry. I don't intend to be more than Sirius's friend."

"That's what I'm afraid too."

Now it was Remus's turn to ask: what's that supposed to mean?

"Morning, James," Sirius appeared at the doorway with disheveled hair. "What brings you here?"

"This," James held up a small piece of parchment the size of a pastry torn from a larger scroll. "Remus urgently requests for a book titled...," James read. "Did you tell the owl it was urgent too?"

Over the next few days, a chill returned to London. Although it wasn't easy for Remus to leave his warm bed, he rose nevertheless and met the chilly morning air with a grimace. When Sirius knocked at the door an hour later, Remus was dressed in his Muggle clothes and ready to depart for the day. Sirius found his clothes odd, as he did the day of the demonstration (Remus could tell from the other man's quirked eyebrows), but unlike that day or the two days ago, when the Black heir kept quiet about it, Sirius spoke up.

"Do you have any robes?" Sirius asked.

"I do," Remus replied. But they're all too shabby, Remus thought. If they were to meet vendors today as was planned, he wanted to dress appropriately, even if it mean dressing as a Muggle.

"Wear that then. They might mistake you for a Muggle. Can't imagine they'll take a Muggle too seriously."

He supposed Sirius was right, but there was a problem: he had no formal robes to wear, and he wasn't going to ask Sirius to lend him money to purchase them. Even if that was his relationship with Sirius.

"We have you for that," Remus said, picking up his sachet. "Your surname is wizard enough. For all they know, I could be a muggleborn."

"Fair point," Sirius said at last, a touch irritated at the reminder of his pureblood heritage. "But I don't know why you're so attached to those clothes."

"We're all attached to something," Remus said. "Think of it as a quirk of mine."


End file.
